


Firsts

by TheWalkingGrimes



Series: Tales of District Four [13]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: But it's tamer than my other 'M' ratings, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Marking 'M' for safety, Minor Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Other, Sex Trafficking, Very Minor, everything is vague, just mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingGrimes/pseuds/TheWalkingGrimes
Summary: When people ask about his first time, Finnick always lies.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason & Finnick Odair
Series: Tales of District Four [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018845
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Firsts

Finnick doesn’t talk about his first time.

He gets asked about it frequently. Or no, not really _asked_ \- he gets sly remarks about it as people make assumptions and jump to conclusions. Flirtatious comments that expect something equally enchanting in response. 

Sometimes, when he’s in an irritable mood, or he’s about at his limit and dangling near the precipice of self-destruction, Finnick considers being honest. Pictures the little surprised ‘o’ their painted mouths would make if he told them, _I was fifteen, I didn’t have a choice, he was at least three times my age, when I cried he didn't stop he just laughed._

 _"Oh no!"_ He imagines they’d exclaim, once they recovered from their shock. _“_ _Oh you poor thing."_

And then if he were _really_ feeling destructive, he’d turn to them, give them a wry little smile and say, _"_ _Oh don’t feel bad, I’ve gotten used to it since then."_

But he likes his tongue in his head - and more importantly he likes the people he loves remaining alive and safe.

So he lies, spinning vague nonsense about the beach at moonlight and a sea nymph, or some beautiful Capitol princess or prince who captured his heart, depending on who’s asking and what he thinks they want to hear.

It’s pathetic, really, that even when he’s retelling the most bullshit story he has in his arsenal about a girl with hair like seaweed and eyes like pearls and breasts as soft as the morning mist (whatever the hell that is supposed to mean), he still makes himself sad imagining what could have been.

* * *

“What was your first time like?” Annie asks him, guileless. 

Sex isn’t something they ever talk about, their new and slightly awkward friendship revolving around other, mundane things. Except they’d been walking in town and Annie had practically dragged him behind a dumpster when she’d spotted her friend Percy out and about. 

_(“Oh my god, you’re a heartbreaker.” Finnick exclaimed when the reason for her anxiety became clear to him. “Annie Cresta, trying to give a jilted lover the slip-”_

_“No!” She protested, face burning like fire. “No, it’s not like that, it’s just- he - he told me that he loved me after - when I was about to - before I, when I went -”_

_He could see her getting worked up, panic spiking as the memories threatened to overwhelm her, and easily filled in the gaps. Suddenly he felt annoyed at this_ Percy _\- who the hell used a moment like that to give a love confession? How selfish, to put that on someone right before they’re about to fight for their life._

_“Alright, well…” Finnick covered his nose. “We can just hang out then until the coast is clear.”_

_“I’m sorry - I wasn’t thinking - should’ve picked a better spot to hide.”_

_“No, it’s cozy.” He lied, and immediately unplugged his nose, taking a deep whiff that made Annie giggle. “And_ fragrant. _Do you think they sell this as a perfume?”_

_He was rewarded with a weak smile. “Is this a hint for what I should get you for your next birthday?”_

_“Please, I MUST have this scent in my collection.” He whined in his best impression of Hapitha. “What is it called Annie dearest?”_

_She pretended to think on it for a while, for so long that Finnick assumed she checked out of reality from the stress of the near-encounter with Percy, until she said, with definitive seriousness:_

_“Fish Guts de Parfum.”)_

Annie’s actually the one to bring it up a few days later, her cheeks pink with embarrassment but determined to explain it. The confusing feelings that she used to battle for Percy, how they’d built up over the years until they boiled over in a night of teenage recklessness. Her first time had been quick, confusing, and left her wondering why everyone made such a fuss over it. 

It’s only fair for her to ask for an equivalent story in response.

The usual lies stick on the edge of his tongue. He’s not sure why. There’s a version of it that he saves for District 4 people, one that sounds remarkably similar to Annie’s - a stolen night with a pretty girl on the dunes. It’s realistic yet vague enough to stop people from questioning him. 

Really, it’s not like it’s any of her business.

“I don’t remember.” He says instead. It’s still a lie, but it feels less _wrong_ than faking it. Annie’s gaze is curious and Finnick feigns nonchalance, with an edge of cockiness. “It all sort of blends together after a while.”

Finnick wishes that wasn’t a lie. He wishes he didn’t remember everything. 

He wishes he didn’t remember _anything._

* * *

_(Many months later, he tells her the truth about that night._

_When he wakes up shaking after a nightmare, and the words spill out like a religious confession as he whispers into her hair._

_“I was scared,” he admits for the first time. “I was so scared, Annie. I just wanted to go home.”_

_“You’re home now.” She reminds him, kissing the skin behind his ear. Because she knows him, knows that brushing her lips against that spot causes him to shiver, hold her tighter. She’s always doing things just because she knows it makes him feel good._

_“I know.” Finnick replies, taking her hand. Even when they’re in bed and every other inch of their bodies are touching, Annie likes it when he holds her hand, and Finnick is always only thinking about what will make her feel good too. They are almost selfish in their selflessness toward each other, and Finnick thinks this is how it should always be. “I’m always home when I’m with you.”)_

* * *

Finnick’s sitting in Johanna’s room during the 74th Hunger Games when she asks him the question. It’s the middle of the day and they’re drunk, their tributes long dead, watching the District 12 tributes making out in a cave and taking bets on how far they’ll go - Johanna thinks they’re going to fuck, Finnick thinks that poor boy loves the girl too much to do that with her on camera - and Johanna turns to him and asks bluntly, “What about _your_ first time, then?”

It’s Johanna, so Finnick could tell her the truth, or even just deflect it with a snarky reply like _“It was with some Capitol asshole, what do you_ think _it was like?”_

“My first time that mattered was with Annie.” Finnick says instead. 

“Ugh,” says Johanna. 

_(He can read the affectionate curl of her lips that she tries to hide though. She can give him all the shit in the world about his love for Annie, but Finnick thinks it's possibly the part of him Johanna likes best. Sometimes he wonders if it gives her hope for her own future.)_

“I mean it.” He tells her.

Because Annie might not have been his first kiss, or even his first kiss with someone of his choosing, but it was the first time he felt the entire world fall away when his lips pressed against someone else’s.

The first time he fell asleep curled around her wasn’t the first night he’d spent in bed with someone, but the morning after was the first time he’d stayed awake just watching her chest rise and fall, the first time he’d memorized all the lines in anyone’s palm as he stared at the sight of her hand tucked against his.

She wasn’t the first person to touch him, or even to give him pleasure, but hers were the first hands that he wanted on his skin, the first touch that made him feel safe and secure and _happy._ And she was far from the first person he’d ever brought to bliss, but Annie’s exclamations and expressions of joy were the first he ever bothered to catalogue, the first that brought a thrill of excitement and contentment.

Annie wasn’t even the first lover he’d said _I love you_ to. But his first time saying those words and actually _meaning_ them - letting them loose onto the world with a relief and a terror that was painful - was with her.

“Annie was my first for everything that matters.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so virginity is a social construct and also nobody’s damn business. If Finnick wants to tell people his first time was with Annie, that’s his prerogative.


End file.
